Maedhros' last will
by Kelenthial
Summary: A short story I've written about two years ago and found today while browsing for some lost file... It is 'fanon extreme', so don't get your hopes high. Poor Maitimo experiences a fit of nearly teenage rebellion... Modern English, and, of course, ANGST.


So, it has finally come to that. You'd probably expect me to grieve. To fall prey to mad pain, despair, unbearable guilt or even insanity. You'd have me to scream, curse, weep and shake with turmoil of uncontrollable emotions. Don't even bother denying it. I've read some of this 'fanfiction' you are so enthusiastic to write - and you always make me to be the angsty one. It seems to not be enough that torture fickers love me so and often give heed to their sadistic fantasies about - in majority - Moringothos torture chambers. Truth to be said I suppose he had got some torture chambers. But, no, and I say it once and for all - I did not see them. Actually I have seen very little of Angband at all. Not the most concerned with tourist aspect they are, Moringortho's thrall masters. And, yes, it means just what you think it means - I was simply hanged by my wrist on the stupid mountain wall. No tortures or even attempts of deprivation or anything else your inflamed imagination would like to whisper about on lonely nights. Nothing. In. The. Matter. Perhaps Moringotho was thinking that he has yet time to do that, but I honestly doubt it. Truth to be said, the most humiliating thing you can do to one of the Feanorians is not to torture us with physical pain or even master mental and emotional agony - no. It is to IGNORE us. And he did just that. The sneaky bastard caught me like one may catch a naughty pet and then just hung me on that Eru damned wall. Can you actually believe that? I thought you could not. The poison has already infected your mind. How do yo call it? fanon? Yes, that is it. Fanon. Even the word itself makes me shudder. Not only me. But that is not the point. Lets get to the point, shall we?

I got a little carried over with all that Thangorodrim stuff. But, really I HAVE my reasons... perhaps now you will put away your unfulfilled sexual needs when thinking on silmarillion fanfiction and write something with actual literature value not some silly torture fic that seems to arouse you so... Oh, Iluvatar in Ea, who am I fooling? I know that you will not.

So lets just carry on with this... Lets call it my last will. Maybe this way you will actually take it to consideration. So. As I was saying before getting distracted with yet another stream of my inner complaints, I am always the angsty one. Not only tortured. I must be the mentally unstable, too. You would think that the eldest son - and, as you are so fond of pointing, heir of Feanaro will have more dignity than that. But nooo, you have to have it your way! And so I must be haunted -- with everything and everyone in history of the First Age who has done any wrong/ what has gone wrong at all. Just lovely, isn't it? I suppose that you just like beautiful man to squirm - and I was always told to be beautiful. My hair like fire my eyes like star, my body - and Tulkas may go and hide, hm? And all the rest of this rubbish you SO love to point out in this... this... FANFICTION of yours. Really, as if one's nice psyche was the major equivalent of his worth. Hormone stricken teenagers... I shake my head on you.

Anyway, the angst. And the actual and ever present hypocrisy of yours. I am the dignified one, the proud one, the graceful one. I must speak with the most formal and ridiculous way you can think of, yet when a mere shadow crosses the horizon must I stagger and choke with my own words. Preferably sobbing. I am the strongest one, the valiant one, the and-what-was-that-despair-thing-everybody-else-is-so-keen-on one. Yet in some mysterious way you always seems to spot me in your fics weeping like four-years-old.

I am always bothered by some thing or another in a way that really makes one think. And think what, no more less! "How it is possible that with all this emotional distress the guy hasn't already gone into coma?" Or at least attempted suicide. Lost his mind. But no. I am bothered all the way for centuries non stop and not only at my best with my wits, even recovering when some orphaned children are put on my head, oh sorry, given to my care, and only then - which is funny enough, as I have got enough of this for the rest of the lasting of Arda with 6 younger brothers who where everything but gentle silent children, and had nearly a competition of who-will-torment-Maitimo-more, since our father was always busy with his work and our mother with her self pity. But no, fanon - again, this word - told you that I love children, so it must be so. No comment. What? I whine? Ok, so I do! I have all the right in the world to do so! Since I am ALWAYS the angsty one. It doesn't matter if it happens being the nearly perfect boy tormented by his father or injustice of life or by his oh-so-terrible deeds, or just some 'accursed spawn of Feanaro' without a little bit of common sense or conscience. I am always angsty. Always unhappy. Never happily married. Never respected without resentment. I can't even get any fun in kickin' the bad guys asses since they are supposed to run simply on sight of me! Dear Eru! It is SO frustrating! How is it that I can NEVER get any good stuff from this whole fanfiction shit? It is SO unfair! And, as it goes that everybody has his/hers own view on my character - but, strangely enough, they end being nearly the same thing! So I end up doing the same things over and over again. Varda's mercy, why me?!

So, it has finally come to this. Now, when someone will ask you WHY exactly Maedhros did throw himself to the chasm of fire, you can enlighten him. Or her. It was just the only sensible thing to do. Just this simple truth: who would like to be the angsty one forever?


End file.
